


Labyrinth

by Kitexa



Category: Frozen (2013), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Manipulation, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitexa/pseuds/Kitexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To some, love is a game. To others, a door bursting with possibilities. In some cases, it's a learning process, each road embarked a consequence of choice. Sometimes for the better... sometimes for worse. An alternate version of Frozen, focusing primarily on Anna/Hans. Some dark themes, some fluff, and a whole lot of complication. Flynn and Rapunzel will not appear until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turn away, slam the door

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to apologize for the length of this chapter. It has been a while since I've written fanfiction.

She isn’t sure why she hoped differently. That Elsa would finally give in, accept her questions, ideas, and say yes for _once_ in their lives. “What did I ever do to you?” Anna snaps, squeezing the object of debate around his arm. She can’t see, of course, but Hans must have reacted, for his muscles tense beneath her fingers.

“Anna, please,” Elsa urges, but won’t look at her, won’t stop for her, brushing past the sister she always does on her way to the door. She sounds anxious, and alright, Anna notices but she’s past the point of caring. She has a voice and it’s high time her sister stand still and listen to it!

“No!” The younger girl retorts, swiping a hand at her side for emphasis. Her sister can’t see, but even beneath her evergreen cloak, Anna spots her shoulders tensing. Against conscious will, her voice softens when she next speaks, bitterness cut by a sore desperation. “Don’t do this, don’t shut me out.” ‘ _Please_ ’ hangs silent in the air: Anna reaches for her sister, who promptly recoils. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, she wonders if she’s at last reached Elsa, if maybe she’s finally broken through—

“I’m sorry, Anna.”

Hope shrivels in her chest; features hardening as her sister turns away once more. _Why do you do this to yourself? You know she’ll never change._ No, but… earlier, Anna could have sworn the old Elsa—the one who used to laugh, smile and _play_ returned. _Stupid girl._  Stupid for waiting, stupid for hanging on, stupid for trying – _trying_ —to figure out where she went wrong, why the elder girl stopped reaching out, what she possible could have done to offend the one person who _should_ _have_ been there for her—

_Stop._

A sharp breath, slowing her internal tangent. Elsa has gone, slipped out the door without another word. _Always avoiding conflict._ Creating more in the wake of each avoided.  Well fine. She didn’t want conflict, Anna would march it right out of the damn kingdom. “Come on, Hans.” She barks, clasping his hand as she returns to his side.  He hesitates, startled and by the look of it, concerned. (What a sweetheart. _He’d_ never push you aside.)

“Where are we going?” He asks (see?), wariness etched in his features.  The princess scowls, intensity etched into her own freckled face.

“You still wanna marry me, don’t you?”

Expression softens, surprise overpowering caution. “Of course I do.” And he says it like the easiest answer in the world. She doesn’t smile, but that knot around her heart loosens a fraction as she continues.

“Then let’s go.”

“Go? Go where?” Worry (or perhaps hesitation -- No! NO. He isn’t like Elsa, He _cares_ ) curls his lips in a frown.  

“To the Southern Isles, I don’t know.” Does it really matter where they go? As long as it’s AWAY. From locked doors and empty halls and sisters who don’t remember what the word even means…

 “Anna—”

“ _Hans_.” He quiets, and Anna’s voice drops. “Please. I can’t stay here anymore.” She squeezes his hand.  “Somewhere else, anywhere else.” _I want to feel the way I do with you every day._ Important, accepted…loved.  Who wouldn’t trade their lives for that?

Her fiancé hesitates, and doing so freezes the aching girl’s heart. _He won’t, he can’t, you’re too in sync, he won’t back out..._

Indeed, he doesn’t: Hans sigh, but the following nod confirms her expectation. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Relief seeps through the anxious crevices; her grip around his fingers tighten, tugging him towards the door. The crowd, of course, whispers behind (first the queen, now the princess, what on Earth is happening?) Along with, she’s sure, further discussion behind their isolation. ‘They’re all mad, the lot of them’ she’s sure they’ll say, but it’s only a passing thought. She’s not the crazy one, the frosty queen who pushed the world away. _She_ wants freedom and at last, it seems she’ll have her wish fulfilled.

A biting chill greets them on the other side, almost forcing the princess and her prince and tow to stop _. Cold during summer…?_

_Let it go, Anna._

…right. RIGHT. Arendelle isn’t her problem, anymore. Let the Queen handle its strange occurrences. That is her duty, after all. Anna is just a princess. Just the little sister no one ever realized grew up long ago.

                No one but Hans.

They stop outside the castle doors, panting but exhilarated. The man beside her bares a different face, one she notices only after he speaks. “My ship’s docked below, preparations shouldn’t take long.” The words sound almost stressed, and not for lack of breath.  His free hand brushes through auburn hair, wandering strands falling back into place. Beautiful, despite the worry (?) in his eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks again and now Anna worries, too. Worries again because twice he’s brought it up, brought _this_ up—this uncertainty, he wasn’t like this before, why…

“Yes.” Comes the reply, firm, without need (she hopes) for further questioning. Hans studies her, earning an accidental blush. (It isn’t her fault; that gaze could mesmerize a storm.) He smiles shortly after, and the man she met earlier that evening returns. 

“I just want to check.” He raises her hand, clasping the other over top.  “My home is far from here, there’s a slim chance we’ll be visiting Arendelle in the near future.”  Anna glances down at the warmth between them, considering.

It doesn’t last long.

“I know what I want,” the girl smiles, raising her own arm to cover the hand holding hers, “my home is with you.”

Something akin to pride lights her fiancé’s mirrored grin. “That’s all I need to hear.” Hans lets her go then, sweeping aside in a gentlemanly bow. “After you, milady.”

Anna giggles, touching her lips.  “Why thank you, kind sir.” She chirps, waltzing past him. _Just as you thought, he has only your best interest in mind._ Yes… she’d do well to remember it. Remember not everyone lived behind closed doors.


	2. The storm inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, apologies come too late.

Elsa knew her sister wouldn’t understand. Ten, twelve years since their parents closed the castle gates, shut the world out and Elsa in until she learned to discipline herself. Control the curse plaguing her body, mind—everything she touched or felt --too much, it was all too much and remained so, she couldn’t keep the gates open, couldn’t risk triggering an episode, anxiety, exploit herself and hurt someone the way she did Anna…

The Queen—for she is the queen, now— sinks atop her bed, pinching her forehead with a sigh.  A headache’s begun to form, as it always does when stressed. 

Or frightened.

Somewhere in between…

“Get it together.” Elsa mumbles, exhaling slowly in hope to further calm herself.   _They didn’t see, they don’t know._ An accomplishment, she’d call it; so badly had she feared exposure that day. Not just to Anna, but everyone. Most were not the understanding folk her parents had been.  They’d see only a monster, witch, it didn’t matter, she could _not_ —

The opposing wall abruptly crackles, forcing her head back up. Ice splinters up the door, stretched like a spider’s web at the center and now dipping through and around the hinges. Her eyes widen, though she isn’t sure why. She’s done this before—many times—in moments of panic, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

_I’m not surprised._

Then what?

_..._

Arms wrapping tight around herself, Elsa drops her gaze.   _It’s guilt, isn’t it? That’s the cause this time._ “Yes” she gasps, and her eyes snap shut as the room temperature plummets further.  Tonight is her fault, she knows this and Anna knows it, too. _That’s all she knows._ That’s all she’s seen. Growing up, everything and everyone revolved around Elsa. What she needed when she needed it, bypassing little Anna without a word. How that must have felt…

“I’m sorry.”  She whispers, drawing up her legs. (Dressed be damned, she’s alone and no one’s prying that door open any time soon.) For everything between them, and especially now that her sister couldn’t hear _. Even if you told her, she wouldn’t listen._   She’d already made that clear downstairs. _Can you blame her? She doesn’t know._

And she never will. She can’t. Because if she does she’ll get too close and Elsa will not risk losing her last family tie. Anna may hate her as long as she’s safe. Another ten years won’t do any more harm…

_Won’t it?_

Not as though she has a choice.

A bit awkwardly, Elsa lowers herself down, curling onto her side against a stack of pillows. The second her cheek hits the plush fabric, a soft hiss escapes between, twinkling ice shards trailing behind. Not enough to freeze entirely but still it cools where she craves warmth, comfort, instead.  Another expected occurrence…

  The queen sighs, having enough sense to pluck her crown from her head, setting it atop the bedside table.  So much significance for something so small… _Go to sleep, your highness._  Sleep… yes. Sleep ought to fix everything. Come tomorrow, she’ll have her sanctuary restored. Tucked away inside her castle, no risk or fear or-or parties or _anything_.Just her and her solitude and a handful of folks to keep the place running. 

_And Anna, Anna too._

Right… she ought to address that as well. Apologize and… apologize _._

_You can’t offer any more._

\----------------------------------------------------

When Elsa next wakes, the outside world has stilled. So she believes: occasional shuffling, stray voices are nowhere to be found, they must have gone to sleep.

_Only one way to find out._

She’d rather not. 

_You need to._

…alright, perhaps she did. Perhaps something about the coronation stood above every other misunderstanding between her and her younger sister. Perhaps face-to-face interaction briefly –amidst the torturous worry she’d one day reenact their childhood accident—remembered the fun they’d shared prior and too, remembered that little girl who laughed and squealed and idolized her. Elsa remembered what it meant to be a big sister and…and how maybe…maybe she couldn’t _entirely_ live with a sister who hated her for the rest of their lives. Not without trying to explain.

Keyword being _try_.

                If Anna were ever to learn, well… anyone crazy (not crazynotcrazyupsetlonelyjustlikeyou) enough to marry a man they met on the same evening could not be trusted with a serious secret. For both their safety…

_One thing at a time._

With slight reluctance, Elsa bids her bed farewell, rising with a yawn. The sliver of silver light peeking through the window shade confirms it is, in fact, as late as she believes. Too late for confrontation?

Not entirely… her sister might still be awake, and if not, at least she, Elsa, can take satisfaction in knowing she made an effort.

_Is it really? Is this really your best attempt at reaching out?_

…some questions were best left without answer.

Having enough sense to grab the powder-blue robe from a hanger by the door, (heck forbid the queen reveal she fell asleep fully-clothed) Elsa pads into the hall. She wishes now for a candle instead of evening wear; darker here than her room was previously.

                The blond woman pauses outside her sister’s room, frosty anticipation spiraling up her ankles. _Calm down, calm down._ Teeth grind together, raising a tight fist. She could do this. She could apologize to Anna, knot their fraying tether and return to bed _without freezing the carpet calm DOWN!_ “A-Anna?” Elsa tentatively calls, rapping knuckles against cream-colored wood. The temperature drops further, condensing her stomach as though itself contained wood.  _Keep it together. In out, apologize, bed._ “Anna, are you awake?”  There’s no reply (of course there isn’t) but she persists, regardless, knocking again. “Anna, I need—“ _You’re the queen, Elsa. Conceal your worry._  “…can I speak with you, a moment?”

 Another pause and again no answer. _Maybe she’s asleep._

Yeah, maybe…

_Maybe I’ve earned the silence._

A startling _CRACKLE_ erupts behind her; Elsa flinches,   whipping around. Ice flies from her fingertips into— more ice…a trail of it, creeping up the walls, her dress, robe _controlecontrol you MUST have control!_ “Anna please!” _CONTROL._ “…please…” _Breathe._  Forehead presses against the chilling surface, palms following suit. Voice drops, and as before, her stomach clenches. How she’ll sidestep this private storm she can’t fathom. “I’m sorry…”

Perhaps whatever good fortune still remains tips in her favor, or maybe she leans just a little too hard; the door creaks open, revealing… nothing…?

Well not… _nothing_ —bed, dresser, childhood mementos all remain, but the princess herself is _gone_.  

“Anna!” Whipping winds blow aside the door in full, icy shards intertwined scraping the wood. Elsa bursts through, a chill unrelated to her powers squeezing the queen’s heart. _Think, think find the answer she can’t have vanished there must be another explanation!_

Beneath her feet glistening crystal snakes across the floor, painting her Anna’s quarters in an eerie winter white. Moonlight light pooling in through the window fragments on contact, slapping silver shadows along the walls; for once, they matter little.

 _Maybe she’s still out,_ the queen pleads internally, clutching the edges of her robe. The fabric stiffens beneath her fingers, and she lets slip a curse, raking through her hair, instead. It’s too quiet for an after-party. She knows before the thought occurs. The castle sits in deathly quiet (or had, before she’d entered the hall). If anyone remained, their echo would carry. _Anna would be here._ But she isn’t. She isn’t and that means she must have… _left_.

_“I can’t live like this anymore.”_

_“Then leave.”_

No… “Anna, no…” no, no no… she sinks to the floor, sliding fingers through her unraveling braid _. You did this, Elsa._

“I didn’t mean to…”

_You pushed too far._

“…it was an accident…”

_It’s always an accident._

…it was… and no matter how cautionary her someone always _inevitably_ got hurt.   The blond woman’s eyes fill with tear, pulling her knees to her chin. They got hurt, yes, and Elsa found herself alone.

Always alone.

Trapped in her private storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not happy with this chapter, so I'm sorry if it isn't as long or as interesting. For some reason, I had trouble writing it. Ah well... it's finished. Now for chapter three!


End file.
